Strays and Traitors
by Saengak
Summary: "But you have a name, don't you?" Yato's shinki asks cruelly. "Do you want to be a stray?" "I..." He stares at the ground with wide, unseeing eyes. "If that is the price Yatogami-sama wishes to name..." Kazuma chokes out, "then I am willing." Ch19 AU: Kazuma becomes a stray in order to save Bishamon's life. EDIT 29/07/18: indefinite hiatus, sorry! Up for adoption! Please see notes.
1. The Request

**EDIT 29/07/18** : I'm really sorry guys. I know it's been a while and it's not fair to you all that I've started something and left it like it is, but I just don't have it in me to continue this for the foreseeable future. I'm really sorry. You all have given me such incredible support and I'm even express how grateful I am, but I'm just... not in the same headspace I was when I started this. Maybe I'll find it again someday, so I'm leaving this fic as it is. But if anyone has ideas of how they want to continue this fic and wants to adopt this baby, just drop me a message and I will be happy to discuss it with you! Once again, thank you all so much.

ORIGINAL **A/N** : I love Ch19. In canon, Kazuma's loyalty to Bishamon manifests in the form of him being unwilling to serve any other master. But his loyalty could have manifested slightly differently too. If he was willing to go against Bishamonten's wishes by asking Yato to massacre his whole clan (and causing her so much pain in the process) giving in to what he perceived as Yato's demands in order to save her life is not an impossibility.

As for why Yato wants Kazuma to be his shinki... that will become clear as the story goes on ;)

Here's to Adachitoka-senseis' recovery and the return of Noragami! As always, I am indebted to the KazuBisha shippers out there whose fics have given me a lot of inspiration. Please enjoy!

* * *

Kazuma's sandals skid and sink in the sucking mud and he stumbles, his body pitching forward for a heart-stopping second before he catches his balance. _"Bishamon-sama..."_ His eyes squeeze shut as he doubles over for breath, panting harshly from the unfamiliar exertion of running. After he had been taken in by Bishamon, he hadn't had to run for his life from ravenous ayakashi for a long time. And now...

Dashing the mingled sweat and rain from his brow, Kazuma straightens and starts up in a jog. He has to save her! His lungs burn and his mud-covered feet slide dangerously in his straw sandals, but desperation urges him on and he quickly picks up into a run again. Several travellers look up at him in incredulity as he dashes past them, but he barely notices. They forget about him as soon as he passes them.

He doesn't know how long it takes for him to reach the village where the feared Magatsukami is rumoured to be staying, but it sprawls before him now in all its dull utility. The people here are well-dressed and the streets are relatively clean. The sun warms his back; his rain-soaked clothes having long since dried.

Despite the drowsy peace that envelopes the close-packed houses and narrow roads, he can sense the Magatsukami here. A malevolent if quiescent presence that lurks behind the shoulder.

Kazuma's throat catches as he swallows. Each step he takes seems heavier than the last even though he knows that he is not stinging his master in the least.

This is a terrible thing that he is about to do; something that no tears or pleas can never take back. Even now, he can barely countenance it, but he has no doubt that this is right.

There he is—Yatogami. Dressed in the black of death, he sits on the edge of a well with one leg balanced against the knee of the other. His girl-child of a shinki stands beside him, dressed in a disconcertingly cheerful kimono. The small bit of shade provided by the wooden roof falls over their blank faces, and Yato's ice-blue eyes glow almost eerily in the half-light.

Kazuma smooths his mud-splattered kimono the best he can and recaptures the flyaway strands of his hair at the nape of his neck, despairing at his filthy state as he wipes his face of dust and sweat. The Exemplar of the clan would have given Kazuma a good scolding for daring to seek audience from Bishamon like this, but surely the Magatsukami will excuse his dishevelment. If the rumours are true, Yato will only delight in seeing others brought low.

"Forgive me Yatogami-sama, I beg you hear my request." Kazuma kneels on the ground and lowers his face to the ground. With every uneven inhale, the dry scent of clay soil fills his nose. Shame and regret twists his gut for this betrayal of his master, but where there might have been guilt there is only a hollow desperation. "I am Kazuma, one of Bishamon-sama's shinki. Bishamon-sama is dangerously blighted by her shinki. Please, I beg you to wipe out my clan and save her life."

He does not ask to be spared, only Bishamon. Only his master.

In the silence, Kazuma can almost feel the chill of Yato's gaze.

"Did you hear that, Yato?" The shinki's voice comes out high and mocking. "He wants us to kill all of his friends. Can you believe this backstabber?"

Kazuma can only keep his head bowed. For all his honourable intentions, her accusations are true. But if this is what he has to become, he will accept all the slurs and insults without a word. _"Please,"_ he repeats in his mind. _"Please—"_

"You got money?"

The question is offhand.

Living by Bishamon side as her shinki, Kazuma has everything he wants but not money. "I-I have nothing." Only the clothes on his back, his collar dampening with cold sweat as he curses himself for not having foreseen Yato's demand.

"But you have a name, don't you?" Yato's shinki asks. He can imagine the cruel smirk curling her lip even as his breath freezes inside his chest. "Do you want to be a stray?"

"I..." Kazuma stares at the ground with wide, unseeing eyes. His hands are pressed to the ground before him, the blood-crimson strokes of his name stark on the back of his right hand. It is the sign of a sacred bond between divinity and humanity, and it is the only precious thing Kazuma has.

Bishamon is the only precious thing he has.

But did he not vow to himself to save her? To give up anything and everything, including his name and his very life, in order to free her from the blight and pain her corrupted shinki have caused her?

Yato is still silent.

"If that is the price Yatogami-sama wishes to name..." Kazuma chokes out, his fingers of clawing deeply into the dirt as his heart contracts with a sharp pain, "then I am willing."

There's a rustle of cloth as the Magatsukami slowly rises. "Show me the way," he commands, and Kazuma's head whips up in shock. Joy and agony mingle so thoroughly that he is unsteady even on his knees. "After I name you."

Yato's unwavering gaze stares him down, steady and cold. He lifts his hand, power already gathering at his fingertips. "Thou, with nowhere to go and nowhere to return, I shall grant you a place to belong."

 _"Forgive me, Bishamon-sama!"_ Kazuma closes his eyes tight and strangles the sound of despair in his throat.

"My name is Yato. With this name, I make thee my servant."

Power swirls around him, and Kazuma's fingers clench into the fabric of his kimono.

"Thou art Suku (掬). Thy vessel is Koku. Come, Koki!"

The new name sears into his left cheek just below the eye and he disappears in a brilliant flash of red light.

Yato looks down at the new wakizashi in his hand. It is fully black, from the blade to the oval guard to the criss-crossed hilt wrappings. "Not bad," Yato murmurs, testing the balance of the sword before taking several swipes at the air before him. "It seems that you understand a Magatsukami's needs."

At the back of his new master's mind, Kazuma hangs his head. With a shaking hand, he wipes away the tear that had escaped down his cheek and trailed over his new mark. "Please don't use me to kill them," he whispers.

Yato lowers the sword. "Very well. Revert, Suku!"

As the command is released, Kazuma appears back in his human form. The mark on his face throbs—betrayal branded onto skin. He picks himself up with resignation weighing his bones and shoves away all self-pity into the dark back corners of his mind. This is all for Bishamon. "May we go to Bishamon-sama now, Yatogami-sama?"

His original shinki gives Kazuma a cold look but Yato nods, tucking his hand into his sleeves. "Lead the way."

The new stray bows, his eyes lowered. "Please follow me," he murmurs.

* * *

The ayakashi that has formed over Bishamon's estate in Takamagahara is a monstrous abomination. It writhes, gaping maw open to the skies as it swings its mishappen head. Currents of air crackling with energy whips harshly about it, and the earth vibrates with its anguished, throaty howls. A huge, milky-pink eye stares sightlessly down at the three arrivals as it wrecks wanton destruction on the houses around it.

The shinki girl laughs delightedly and shields her eyes against the sun with her hands. She is a vision of childish glee as she skips towards Yato, crowing over the fact that Bishamon and her shinki are about to perish together.

Kazuma can only stand there, overcome with horror as he searches for a glimpse of long blonde tresses and pale skin.

The towering beast of an ayakashi groans again, its mouth stretching wide, and suddenly Kazuma sees her. "S-she's there!" he shouts as hope seizes him sharply. "Inside the mouth!"

Yato squints his eyes. "Ah."

Kazuma immediately bends into a deep bow. "I beg of you, please help Bishamon-sama!"

It is as if all blood has rushed to his head. A sharp throb starts behind his eyes and his heartbeat pounds in his ears, frantic like a caged creature.

"Hiki!"

When Kazuma raises his head, Yato is gone. There's a glint overhead and Kazuma spots him in the air, his body twisting and turning gracefully as he takes flying leap after leap, slashing as he goes. The ayakashi who had been his friends and comrades rain down about him as bits and pieces of discoloured, blackened flesh, shrieking and weeping as they fall. There are too many eyes and too many limbs on those bloated, bloody pieces, and yet, Kazuma can still hear their pleas.

 _"Save me, save me!"_

 _"It hurts!"_

And worse of all is Bishamon's voice, shrieking and wailing as she begs Yato not to kill her children, defending them all until she cannot draw breath.

Kazuma cannot speak for fear of screaming himself mute.

How could have things gone so wrong? Bishamon had taken them in out of overflowing kindness. She had given kind words to even the nail that had pierced her earlobe; a useless shinki who could not even draw a borderline. She loves them all.

The tears that wet his face are like cold trails of ice as he watches, helpless, as the Magatsukami he had called cuts down his family.

 _"Please live, Bishamon-sama. Please."_

He cannot bear any other result.

* * *

Kazuma is trembling like a leaf in the wind by the time Yato brings Bishamon down to him, her unconscious body slung over his shoulder like a sack of rice. The Magatsukami is surprisingly gentle as he manoeuvres her limp form into Kazuma arms. He holds her close, throat tight with gratitude as he wraps the shredded remains of her gown around her the best he can. He can hardly think as his eyes flit over her, seeking the reassurance of any sign of life. She's mottled over with blight and bruises and cuts, but her chest rises and falls with rapid breaths. She is alive and it is all he can do to not break down weeping.

"Go take care of her until she wakes," Yato says. There is an intensity in his stare as he looks between the two of them, but his expression is unreadable. "Tell her what has happened—all of it. Then come to me."

Kazuma nods jerkily, having expected as much but thankful anyway for permission to stay with her for a while more. "I understand. Thank you."

Yato nods back once, flicks the blood from his katana, and reverts his shinki back to human form with a soft command. "Hiiro."

The girl-child appears, her pink lips stretched in a wide smile as she claps. "That was fun, Yato! Don't you think?" She glances at Kazuma slyly out of the corner of her eye, waiting for his reaction.

Feeling his gut churn at her words, Kazuma reflexively clutches Bishamon closer. It is a relief when Yato doesn't respond to his shinki's bloodlust in kind. With nothing more than a quiet "we're leaving", he turns and walks away. Hiiro's smile doesn't waver as she skips after Yato, but Kazuma has to resist the urge to shiver at how cutting her grin becomes.

He's like her now. A stray.

* * *

 **A/N:** 掬 means to "scoop up water with the hand" according to , while its compound 掬する means "to scoop up (with both hands), to empathize with, to take into consideration".

I apologise for what is likely a terribly misinformed use of Japanese and on'yomi/kun'yomi readings. It's a strange name, but it's the only one that I could find with a meaning and pronunciation that I like :) If you add on the "ne" (音) family name at the end, Yato's name for Kazuma would be Sukune (掬音).

I'll try to get Yato to explain why he chose that name in a future chapter!


	2. The Confession

Kazuma brings her to the grotto right away, where the hot spring bubbles with clear, clean water capable of purging the blight from her body. He wades in with her and her face twists with discomfort as the warm water stings the cuts littering her skin, but she does not wake. Carefully, he settles her form on the underwater stone bench that had been carved along the border of the spring. Her head pillows against shoulder as he wraps an arm around her waist, holding on so she does not slip under the water's surface accidentally.

"Bishamon-sama," he murmurs sadly as he washes away the tear tracks on her face with a gentle hand. The bruise-like marks from the blight stand out starkly against her pale features.

He scoops up water and lets it trickle over her face and neck, over and over again until the angry marks begin to fade. As the hours pass by, her feverish, panting breaths even out into a deeper rhythm, and the pain tensing her brow eases. It is only then that Kazuma wonders what to do with the blood and gore still caking her hair. Trying to wash her incredibly long hair while holding onto her limp body is awkward and inevitably he fumbles, almost dunking her into the water. Still, he marvels at how her blonde locks are like heavy folds of silk in his hands, smooth and shining as he combs it out with his fingers. He scrubs away the blood under her fingernails too, but when it comes to the rest of her body, he only dares to quickly check for injuries.

His deal with Yato weighs heavily on his conscience. He has no right to be by her side, much less to be caring for her when she is in such a vulnerable state. Yet... the relief that suffuses him when he looks upon her face makes him feel light; lighter than he has been in all the months since she had fallen sick. He still feels the anxiety from those days crawling under his skin, like the tremor of a strained muscle.

His feelings for her are a box of ill-fitting puzzle pieces, jumbled and full of dead-ends and paradoxes. He is almost afraid of looking to closely at himself. What is done is done.

Lifting her out of the spring, he lays her on the smooth stone ledge and hurries to the small storage space carved into the surrounding wall of rock. Worrying all the while about the chill in the air, he collects a towel and a yukata with haste and sets them beside Bishamon.

Kazuma's face is burning by the time he finishes untangling her from the remains of her gown and dressing her in the yukata. Only her female shinkis had helped Bishamon bathe and dress, but it would have been even more remiss of him to leave her in her bloody, battered state. Kazuma pushes away the feeling that he has done something terribly improper - _"necessity,"_ he tells himself - before he can sting her with his increasingly unsteady emotions. It is rapidly becoming a familiar exercise.

Wrapping her in another towel to prevent the dampness of his own clothes from soaking her yukata, he hefts her into his arms again and heads out of the grotto. He turns his mind to the present, frowning as he concentrates on each step. The stone path has been worn down into slippery plains by the passing of centuries and with Bishamon's weight in his arms, he is off-balance in more than one way.

The veil of overhanging vines that hides the grotto's entrance parts about his shoulders as he ducks through, and suddenly, the ruins of the estate confront him yet again. Night has fallen. The moon casts a silver glow over the land's miamed visage, highlighting each jagged surface in monochrome contrasts. A lump catches in his throat at the sight of the crumbled walls and torn roofs, some houses crushed whole and others levelled from the ground. The mansion is completely gone. Caught in the centre of destruction as it was, only cracked marble flooring and shattered pieces of stone and plaster survive, together with the various furniture and belongings.

The bloody pieces of flesh that had covered the ground have dissolved into piles of fine, grey ashes. Soon, even these will disappear. For now they rise up in soft plumes, clinging onto Kazuma's feet as he picks his way through the rubble-littered streets.

He brings Bishamon to the only place he can think of — the house that he lives in with several of the other new shinki. No, the house that he _had lived in_ with the others. Biting his lip at the thought of all the faces he would never see again, Kazuma lowers his gaze to Bishamon and reminds himself what was at stake. She is worth everything, even those precious lives he had no right to give.

The outer districts are too far away to have suffered much damage. When he pushes open the shouji door of his house with a nudge of his heel, Kazuma is relieved to see everything still relatively neat and whole. Only a few items have been knocked off the shelves.

A small whimper escapes her as he lays her on a futon, and his heart breaks all over again at the tense lines of distress under the flutter of her lashes. Her skin is still clammy and her lips pale, but he is no doctor. There is nothing else he can do for her but wait. He has to blink back tears as he pulls the thick blanket up to her chin, tucking it around her and arranging her hair so that it does not pool on the floor.

She is the war god Bishamon. She won't succumb so easily.

He leaves her side only to bathe and change out of his soaked clothes, feeling unease gnaw at his bones every second he is away. When he returns to find her peacefully sleeping still, it is as if part of his very self settles back into his skin. Sitting down by her bedside to keep vigil, Kazuma sighs on a silent exhale as he gazes at her face. He longs to take her delicate hand in his, to draw comfort from the press of her flute-like bones against his palm and warm her in return, but he quells the urge with brutal swiftness.

When she wakes and realises what he has done, she will surely excommunicate him. She would want no kind gesture from him.

Swallowing heavily at the thought of what is to come, Kazuma traces the precious name on his hand, over and over.

* * *

He finds a mirror amongst the rubble on one of his searches for Bishamonten's scattered belongings. She has been unconscious for so long Kazuma half-suspects that she doesn't want to wake up at all, despite having healed from her injuries.

Shifting the bundle of her clothes under his arm more securely, he crouches down in corner the half-demolished room. The polished bronze disc sits amongst the splintered remains of a dressing table, its delicate metalwork glinting in the sunlight that filters through the punctured roof. Picking it up gingerly, he turns its reflective side towards himself. On its cloudy surface, his pine-green eyes stare back at him with weary sobriety.

The other gods in Takamagahara came visiting the past week. They were all invariably surprised that she has not reincarnated. As he thanked them with thin smiles, Kazuma hid his hand behind his back. Most carelessly believed the mark on his cheek was Bishamon's and Kazuma didn't correct them.

But eventually, a few realised something was wrong. His mark didn't match the name he gave them but he couldn't bear to call himself anything other than "Kazuma".

He was forced to confess. Once, twice, thrice... with the spell Resound, even though he would have answered willingly if only to stay by Bishamon's side for a little while more. It was a humiliation and everything in him rebelled against it, but he tortured himself with the knowledge that he deserved it all. Word spread like wildfire. It was scandalous and incredible that Bishamon had lost all her shinki save the one who betrayed her, and Takamagahara was aflutter with the news.

Kazuma was resigned when the inevitable attempt at an ablution came. When there was nothing to purify, he bore their shocked looks with as much dignity as he could.

The gods and their shinki left them alone after that.

Tilting the mirror slightly, Kazuma considers the red mark on his left cheek critically.

Despite all the trouble he has suffered, he doesn't hate it. He can't. Aside from the possibility of stinging Yato for such ungratefulness, this is a decision Kazuma has made and the price he has chosen to pay. He has no grounds to complain, and Yato is a benefactor deserving of Kazuma's loyalty.

Objectively speaking, the new name bestowed upon him by his second master is not something devoid of beauty. The character's form has a balance to it, making it pleasing to the eye. The pronunciation is not prone to misunderstanding or innuendo, and its meaning, while strange and obscure, is acceptable. The deep red is the same shade as Bishamon's name for him, but the lines flow in subtly different ways. This is Yato's handwriting.

The unrelenting whispers of accusation at the back of his mind don't stop, though.

 _"A useless nail in her flesh to the end,"_ they hiss, _"and now an unfaithful one as well."_

 _"You should be executed."_

 _"Imprison!"_ The memory of bright boundary lines flash behind his closed eyelids. _"Be cleansed!"_

He hunches onto himself, wondering miserably whether it would have been better if Bishamon had never named him at all. A bad omen, the Exemplar had called him. She was right.

He sets the mirror on its edge and flicks his wrist, watching it hollowly as it rolls away and falls onto its side with a dull, metallic clanging.

* * *

Bishamon's unfocused eyes flutter open but Kazuma is too distracted to notice. He has her in his arms, trying to get her to sip from a glass of water as he massages her throat to help her swallow. It's not really working.

"Ka—" The water goes down the wrong way when she tries to speak and she starts coughing. Startled, Kazuma jerks the glass away from her parched lips and sets it behind him, his hand quickly wiping away the droplet of water that escaped down her chin.

"Bishamon-sama!" he says in a hushed whisper. His voice sounds trembling and relieved to his own ears as he brushes back the loose strands of her hair from her face.

She clutches at him with both hands as her coughs subside and he turns his face to the side, suddenly fearing her reaction to the new name on his face.

"Kazuma," she croaks, her deep purple eyes tear-bright and glistening as she looks up at him. Her lips move wordlessly as her expression flickers through too many emotions to track. It finally settles on pure joy as she pulls him closer. "Kazuma, you survived!"

She's so happy she doesn't realise he is avoiding her gaze. Fumbling for his hand, she looks at the name on the back of his hand and begins to weep. "Kazuma," she sobs, pressing her cheek and then her lips to his name. "You're here..."

Collapsing into his arms, her tears seep into his shoulder as she clings onto him like a child. She cries brokenly, her slender frame wracked by shudders of grief that seem to big for her to contain. Kazuma has never seen her so completely undone. His gut wrenches. Gathering her close, he crushes her against him and strokes her hair tenderly, murmuring reassurances to her until her low keens turn into exhausted hiccups.

"I need you... don't leave me," she murmurs against his chest, and he hates himself for loving the weight of her arms around his waist.

"Bishamon-sama..." His own tears dampen her hair.

She shifts away from him slightly and he lets her go reluctantly. His eyes shut tight.

Her fingers are impossible light when they brush across his cheek but he barely suppresses a flinch.

"What's this?" she asks in a strangled tone. Her thumb presses slightly harder against his skin, running over the mark as if she could wipe it away. "This isn't your name..."

Her voice breaks and he can feel the tremor of her hand against his face. He can't look up for fear of seeing the tenderness in her eyes change to disgust and anger, but he steels himself to tell the truth. Quite apart from what he has promised Yato, she deserves to know what had happened. Everyone else already does.

Still, his voice is an unsteady, thready whisper when he finally works up the courage to speak. "You were dying, Bishamon-sama. The Ma clan was blighting you to death. I begged Yatogami to kill the clan. I... I allowed him to name me in return."

There's a beat of silence.

"It can't be..." Bishamon chokes out. "You..." Her hair whips about her as she shakes her head, eyes wide. "No! Kazuma, look at me." Taking his face with both hands, she tilts his face towards her. The first thing he sees is the deep lavender of her irises, dark with emotion and glittering with moisture. "He forced you didn't he? You don't have to lie for him, I'll kill him!" Her limbs are trembling, her body exhausted but her spirit full of fervour. And Kazuma knows, oh, he knows. If he even says a word, she'll chase Yato down to the ends of the earth.

Her voice lowers and suddenly she's gentle, pleading. "Kazuma, you don't have to be afraid. Tell me the truth." Tears tumble from her eyes like droplets of glass even as she smooths his hair away from his wet cheek.

The guilt is breaking him apart, turning him inside out and slicing his insides to shreds. His head aches and his breath comes shallow. For a split second, he loses his tenuous control over his emotions.

She startles when he stings her.

"I'm sorry, Bishamon-sama." He struggles hard to reign his emotions in.

She must have seen the truth in his eyes because she shoves away from him, her expression falling into blank numbness before crumpling into despair. "W-why? They were your brothers and sisters... You're all precious to me..."

Kazuma stares dully at the floor. "They were killing you."

Doubling over, she presses forehead against the futon and clutches at her hair, a low moan of denial tearing from her.

Her pain is unbearable to him. His body moves by itself and he reaches out to comfort her even though he knows he isn't wanted. The sharp crack of her palm against his face snaps his mind back into clarity and he almost laughs at his foolishness.

 _"She hates me."_

He hardly has time to finish the thought before her hands are fisted into the front of his shirt and he's being pushed backwards with shocking strength. His head bounces against the hard flooring and pain shoots through him, throwing white sparks across his vision. Through tear-blurred eyes, he sees the way her purple eyes glow, her cat-like pupils piercing and unearthly as she glares down at him. The weight of her knee presses down on his chest, making his ribs creak alarmingly as his breath is stifled.

He loves her no less even now.

"I'm sorry," he wheezes, ready to die by her hand.

Salty warmth splashes on his face and slips off his cheekbone. "Kazuma," she snarls.

Then he feels it — the power gathering around her as she raises her two fingers, her teeth bared in a snarl as she prepares to cut him away from her forever. Closing his eyes, Kazuma steels himself for the inevitable even as his heart beats wildly in protest, hammering hard against the cage of his ribs.

"I relea—"

A shaky inhale.

"I..."

His eyes snap open as the curl of Bishamon's power falls away to nothing, along with the pressure on his sternum. "B-Bishamon-sama?" Lifting his hand, he can hardly believe his eyes. His name is still there, as clear as ever.

"Leave." She has her back turned, her shoulders hunched and her hair a sweeping curtain of gold between them. "Don't let me see you again."

"Bishamon-sama...?" His head spins. _"Why had she not...?"_

Whipping around, she pins him with a pain-filled glare more cutting than any sword. The aura of her anger presses down on him like the physical weight of her body, and suddenly he sees none of her fragility, only the sure stance of her feet and the barely restrained violence in her white-knuckled fists. Hurt flushes her face as she shouts "LEAVE!", her whole body lunging forward at that one word and her bared teeth glinting.

He flinches hard.

Picking himself up on watery limbs, Kazuma stumbles through a hasty bow before he is running, his feet flying across dirt and grass until his home fades away into a distant blur behind him. He can still feel her fury, raw like a burn wound in his soul. With every step, the air in his lungs seems to get thinner and thinner, until he finally stops in the middle of nowhere, unable to take another step. Clutching helplessly at the sharp ache in his chest, he weeps like he has never wept before.

* * *

 **A/N:** I assume you all are caught up until season 2 of the anime? I'll try my best to provide spoiler warnings for the stuff after that, but I might get mixed up sometimes.

If you're not caught up with the latest chapters yet, Resound is a spell used by shinki to force other shinki to speak. These spells usually don't work on strays since they have more than one name, as demonstrated by Kugaha. But it's my headcanon that for someone like Kazuma, who holds onto one name very tightly, Resound will work.

I haven't written it in, but the more they used Resound on him and the more they called him a stray, the more immune he became to the spell.

Well, hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I always love to hear from you all. Until next time~


End file.
